Undying
by Dawn of Chaos
Summary: It hurt. The death of the one he was supposed to kill, the one he wasn't supposed to love. So why is it that when he goes to kill the one that broke his resolve, he can't help but not pull through?


Undying  
GrimmIchi  
Last Song by Gackt

* * *

Long, pointed fingers reach out from the outstretched arm they're attached to. From the tip of the finger to the elbow, is clad in short, ebony fur. That same fur acts as pants to the lithe figure. Skin like alabaster shines in the moonlight, the slight definitions of his adequate muscles visible as he turns. He stands sure, despite this already dissolving left leg. That is, while one of the pitch black wings is already half-way gone, turned to dust in the wind. Deep, forest green orbs sway over to the woman out of his reach, his short black hair falling over the angles of his face.

The young woman before him still shows only kindness in her gray, doe-like eyes. The white and black Espada attire still adorns her frame, albeit it ripped here and there. Her long orange hair falls around her, arms hugging herself. His talon fingers extend further, making those looking on think that he wants to reach the woman. Yet, that's not the case. No, the Quatro Espada doesn't see her while he fading away...he sees a tall male; white pants billowing out around strong legs, the shirt on his frame tattered at the ends and left open, exposing the well tanned and muscled chest. He can see electrifying blue eyes staring at him, fingers brushing back his short, spiky cerulean hair, and a grin on those lips. A barely audible sigh slips from he Quatro's black and white lips. The stagnant wind carries off his unsaid words and destroyed body.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

His lashes fluttered against his tan complexion, their lazuline color glinting in the light of the permanent sunlight before being closed off from the world. The pain still ran through his body like the aftershocks of war. He wasn't like his rival, he didn't have regenerating abilities and would much rather keep it that way, he deserved to die. The heavy sigh that slipped past his dry and cracked lips forced a cough to begin rushing forth. As he clenched his azure eyes shut, he saw those chocolate brown ones hovering in his mind's eye. They were full of pride and determination...the need to protect never dying from them, not even as blood poured from the wounds that he alone had caused. As he pushed himself up on his elbows, he glares at the blood splattered across the white sand...his blood.

Blood stains his body, the white and black of his attire splotched with crimson. A large wound runs from the curve of his neck to his waist, a fatal cut in some peoples eyes. His strong fingers dig into the sand around him as another wave of pain rockets through his body. Another cough scratches his dry throat, blood spewing from the wound even more. Lashes flutter closed as tears leak out from the corners of his cyan eyes, the loss of spiritual pressure making his stomach clench and churn. The blue haired Espada understood perfectly well why he was beaten...but why Ulquiorra.

He felt as though he might as well give up. Lie in the sand bleeding to death. He deserved it after all. If he had been able to defeat Ichigo, the Soul Reaper would never had had the chance to battle Ulquiorra. In the least, he blamed himself to hell and back. _That _was where he deserved to be. Hell. For letting the one he cared for die at the hands of another. If _anyone_ was going to kill Ulquiorra, it should have been _him_. Not a measly substitute Soul Reaper. It was a disgrace in his eyes.

That's when it hit him.

He was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez after all! Why should he lie down and die? Especially when he had someone to avenge!

Now, he knew he didn't have regeneration powers like Ulquiorra, but he didn't need them. It would make his revenge all the sweeter if he worked for it.

A groan broke free from him as he staggered to his feet, limps feeling as though they're lifeless. Dull eyes scan the surrounding rubble of broken buildings for any signs of life. Discovering none, he runs a hand through his short, spiky, electric blue eyes, not sensing any spiritual pressure. It dawns on him instantly.

He's the only Espada left alive...and all thanks to a certain Soul Reaper.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Seconds...Minutes...Hours...Days...Weeks...Maybe even months seemed to pass before enough strength had rebuilt itself in Grimmjow's body. His mind hardened and his heart was patched with steel as he stepped out of the Garganta and into the street he knew Ichigo Kurosaki lived on. Grimmjow could barely sense the spiritual pressure Ichigo could hold...it seemed as though it was dwindling, as if its barely burning fire in the midst of a downpour.

Grimmjow jumps up to the roof, the large windows dark from the inside out, but not able to conceal the figure lying peacefully on the bed. The blinds are drawn partly, yet moonlight still drifts in and makes the orange head of hair glow dully.

He slides the window open, the soft night breeze drifting into the decent sized room. With the agility of a cat, he jumps over the bed to stand beside it, legs slightly apart and hands back in his pockets. His clothes are still in tatters, but no blood smudges against his skin, only the clothes. A smirk still resides on his lips, now a more cold show of confidence...resembling that of the Quatro Espada...even if he doesn't know it. Grimmjow cocks his head as Ichigo lies face down on the bed, face turned so that his cheek rests against the pillow. Lips part slightly as a breath slips from them.

The Sexta unsheathes the sword hanging at his side. He raises it up with one hand, angling it down so that it would surely stab through the Soul Reaper's heart. Yet, Ichigo doesn't even so much as flinch, much less jump up and attack Grimmjow...confusing him to no end.

Pale orange lashes quiver like autumn leaves in a gentle wind, forcing Grimmjow to hesitate in his movements. The sadness aching in his chest made him want to curl in a ball and...be like all the weak humans for once, instead of the cold Espada he had been pushed to be.

Which is why the metal clunked against the wooden floor, a sob stuck in his throat. Backing up, his shoes are slick on the floor as his back slams into the wall, eyes snapping closed as he slides down it.

Dammit...he was _not_ going to cry!

But the droplets fell nonetheless, making tracks down tan cheeks and dripping onto his pants as his forehead pressed against his knees.

There! He'd done it. He had lowered himself to the point of _sobbing_ in his rival's room, who he was supposed to _kill, _not drown him in his tears.

.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.

Morning hadn't come soon enough. Every night he was plagued with dreams of a certain Espada and they would never go away. It was always the same moment where he thought he would die...when Nnoitra's sword had sliced deep into Grimmjow's torso. At that moment, his world had stopped moving.

That was when Ichigo would always wake up in a cold sweat. But this time, his eyes travel straight to the open window above his bed, having rolled over to face the wall in his sleep. Ichigo slides the window shut with a soft click, only to turn around with a start at the sound of a mumble.

His eyes aren't the same. His brown orbs can't see what he use to, but for some reason...he can see the slumped figure at his wall, curled in on himself. Ichigo swings his legs over the bed. Thin, gray sweatpants swirl touch the floor as he walks, the white t-shirt crooked on his shoulders, and orange spikes tousled from sleep.

Ichigo kneels down beside the stretched out form, his fingers reaching forward to touch at the blue hair that seems blurry in his eyes. The locks are like silk in his fingers and he can't help but drag his hand through them. Not able to help it, much less resist it, Ichigo throws a leg over Grimmjow's, sitting perfectly on the sleeping man's lap. He cups the others face with both his hands, smashing his lips against Grimmjow's slightly parted ones.

He can feel the others shock as he is instantly jolted awake, but he keeps his hands roaming down to push against Grimmjow's shoulders, keeping him right where he is. Ichigo pulls away, slightly shocked at himself as well, as he stares into Grimmjow's eyes...which continue to blur even worse than before. That's when he realizes that tears are rolling over his heated cheeks.

Grimmjow turns his head away, "Well, well Ichi-berry, is that how you wake everyone up or am I the special one?"

A cat like grin befitting that of Grimmjow, curves Ichigo's lips as he presses himself flush up against Grimmjow, his lips molding perfectly with the others, albeit it sloppy. But neither cares as the sadness inside of their hearts is overtaken by a passionate love that neither should be feeling for the other.

Arms wind around Ichigo's waist as the orange haired man sits back down on Grimmjow's lap, enjoying the feeling of being held close and feeling the of such a warmth that would forever keep them warm. "Does that answer your question Grimm-kitty?"

* * *

_For this lovely writer and girl by the username of LovefromSlytherin here on FFN.  
She won a contest that I manage over at dA and this is one of her surprise one-shots I managed to choke up.  
I couldn't decide between the amazing GrimmUlqui and GrimmIchi so I decided, what the hell, lets do both and have it orgasmically depressing since it's Gackt, but decided to make it adorably fluffy at the end. I can't help it /  
I hope you love it~! _


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